In the branches the light

                   so that the limbs

                            go out

Having a crush was how I existed —
how I spent recess; I wandered
dull fields gone brilliant

Five times the church bells break
the violet elements to gold;

The cat’s alone
and that allows it
to invent itself

The truth is none of our business.
Our adolescent eye-at-the-keyhole rooting
In a sweetheart’s soiled linen for a clue

It was a hard winter for the old eskimo,
Sent out on an ice floe by those he loved
More than life, more than seal blubber,

Maybe the moon is made of ice, not cheese,
And that’s why it’s so frightening.

I got off my plane in a strange country
And saw you standing in the airport
With a blind smile, your eyes like diamonds,

Professor Felicity Harmonia
Taught the seminar in High Fidelity:
“The problem with Stereo … ” I can recall

Because water and sewer mains are destined
In corruption to flow together
Toward death's vast leavening.